Whispers
by Jemppy
Summary: A strange new art and book shop opens in Port Royal and whilst shopping for an anniversary gift for Elizabeth, Will finds a haunting painting of the Black Pearl and a whole new world of mind whispers.
1. Just to Follow

AN: I swore I'd never write a fic with OC s in it, but Norah convinced me to. That and I read an  
author's note that was in the fic I believe was "Finder's Keeper" or something to that effect. It  
was very mature and cool like. Yes they aren't Mary-Sues if they one. Aren't perfect. And Two.  
Are well written. I know that these two aren't perfect (notice the lack of description of their  
bodies, I'll leave that up to the reader) and I can only hope that they are well written. The story  
won't revolve around them. And I hope that there will be some readers. So enjoy and try not to  
read this note, realize there are OC s and click back, give it a try. Eh.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own Pirates or the poem inside. The mouse owns them and Norah owns the  
poem.  
  
Whispers  
Part 1: Just to Follow  
------------------------------------  
  
Cloth hung over the doorway, colorful spools of red and green, blue and yellow. Flowers  
decorated the walls and door frame, hand painted with oils to mingle with the Orient and Hispanic  
designs. Strings of beads hung over windows and creating a different sort of shutter that Port  
Royal have yet to see.  
  
A new store was set to open along a cobble stone street, not far from the archway marking the  
entrance to the harbor. A sign was tacked up on the window proclaiming the store's name, the  
wooden one to replace it as soon as the paint dries.  
  
"Whispers" is the name.  
  
Will was carrying some supplies back down to the smithy when he noticed the shop. Curiosity got  
the better of him as he decided to step in. Maybe the shop had something to offer as a gift for  
Elizabeth on their one year anniversary.  
  
A small bell tinkled at his entrance at which the sound brought a woman out from a back room.  
  
"How can I help you?" she asked, pushing dark hair out of her face. Will idly noticed a smudge of  
paint on her face.  
  
Will looked around the main area of the shop. One wall offered shelf upon shelf of books, each  
spine gilded in gold with their title. On the opposite wall, canvases were stacked against each  
other, the top most painting showing a picture of the sea with a small row boat being tossed  
helplessly amongst the waves, the excess water falling off the side of sea, like a floating, flat disk.  
All of this superimposed on a background of the stars, with both the moon and the sun high.  
  
He stared at it for a few moments, transfixed. It was a beautiful painting, strange and surreal. He  
snapped back when he realized that he still hadn't answered the shopkeeper's question.  
  
"Uh, sorry. I work down the street from here, and I just happened to notice this place opening up.  
Thought I'd look inside. What is it do you sell?" Will asked, turning back to the woman.  
  
She smiled and tried to shove her hair back into place, though it fell right back. "Well here we  
specialize in two things. Books and paintings." she gestured to the two walls, "As you can see."   
  
Staring back at the painting Will mulled over the idea of buying something here for Elizabeth. But  
what would she want, a book or a painting? She had plenty of both. But maybe something with  
pirates in it, she had yet to shake that obsession. Even after their adventure with Jack Sparrow  
and the Black Pearl.  
  
"Do you have anything with pirates in them?" he asked.  
  
The woman cocked her head and thought. "I don't believe I've painted any pirates, maybe my  
friend has some books." she turned back to the cloth covered back door. "Amiee, get out here."  
  
Another woman, with lighter hair, came out. She smiled at the sight of Will standing the store.  
"Hey there, how can I help you?"  
  
The first woman walked over to the stack of paintings and began to flip through the paintings,  
"This lad would like to know if we have anything with pirates, I don't believe that I've painted  
any, so I was wondering if you had written any."  
  
Amiee brought her hand up to her face in thought. Will could see that her fingers were stained  
with ink. "I believe that I do." she moved quickly over to her shelves of books and plucked one  
out.  
  
"Here, it's a book of poetry, about pirates and their needs to be free." she smiled, green eyes  
sparkling. "I use to dream of being a pirate as a child, so I penned these little things. My friend,  
Lene, here thinks I was mad." she gestured to the painter still digging through her art.  
  
"I still do." Lene shot back, an accent shining through, Will realized.  
  
He took the offered book and carefully cracked open the emerald covered book. 'Just to Follow'  
was stamped on in silver gilding on the top of the book. He read the first poem he saw, written in  
a beautiful curly ink.  
  
"Nightly, the wind changes;   
Tides in crescendo as the moon hides her face   
To bring forth the morning sun.   
The laws we live by aren't written with ink   
But with our spirits; guided   
By the warmth and frost of summer sun and winter snow   
Nature holds laws, without rules,   
So freedom glows on the morning horizon"  
  
Will blinked and looked up at Amiee. "Amazing." he whispered. "That is simply amazing."  
  
Amiee laughed lightly, "Oh please, flattery won't get you half price. I wrote those when I was a  
child!"  
  
Will looked back down and re-read the verse. He knew that he wasn't the most intelligent person  
in the world, he also knew that he wasn't as talented in the arts as he wanted to be. He could  
make beautiful swords, yes, and he could recognize art when he saw it. "It is amazing."  
  
"Did you want it?"  
  
"Yes." Will sat the bag of smithy supplies down on the floor and retrieved his coin purse. After  
paying her, he turned back to the other girl, still shifting through the canvases. She had flung one  
painting at his feet unintentionally.  
  
It was a painting of a golden horizon, the sea was reflecting the bronze hues and the reds and  
yellows splashed amongst the waves and foam, it was utterly serene except for the dark blot  
against it. A dark ship with even darker sails. Will knew that ship.  
  
"When did you paint this?" he demanded sharply. He dropped the book and picked up the small  
canvas, it was only about two feet wide and three feet long.  
  
Lene looked up and stared at the one he held in his hands. She impatiently pushed at her hair to   
make it stay, but ended up only smearing more paint on her face. "About a year ago, why?"  
  
  
"I know this ship." Will murmured in a daze.  
  
"You do?" she asked, surprise seeping into her voice. "How?"  
  
"I know the captain. This is the Black Pearl. Where did you paint this?"  
  
Lene straightened up and shared a look with Amiee. "I painted that when I was still living in  
Germany."  
  
"Anywhere by the sea?" Will pressed on.  
  
"No. Germany has only has two coast lines. The Nordsee and the Ostsee. I come from southern  
Germany. I left because, if it wasn't a threat from the Ottoman Empire, it was from France. They  
were always attempting to seize those lower states. I had never seen the sea until I crossed the  
English Channel, met Amiee and sailed here." she gave him a confused look. "Why do you ask?"  
  
Will stared hard at the painting. "Have you ever seen this ship before this?"  
  
Lene shook her head. "No I just paint from images, whispers, in my mind."  
  
"You saw Jack's ship in your mind." it was more of a statement than a question. "Here, can I buy  
this too?"  
  
Lene shook her head, "Just take, it. No need to buy it, it means something to you."  
  
Will nodded in thanks and gathered up his purchases. He needed to see Elizabeth. 


	2. I'm Frightened by What I See

AN: Well lookie at that. People found that first part intriguing... certainly a shock to me.  
Thought I should let y'all know what ya getting into with this fic. It is a creepy type story (well it  
will try to be) so it will be like a horror story. (Yet again it will try to be) And yes there will be  
original female characters in it. But to be blunt I could give a shit if someone wants to go postal  
on me with Mary-Sue accusations. I want to develop these original characters so that they won't  
remain perfectly 2D. I usually don't like original character stories unless they have a good plot.  
That's the key point right? And that is what my focus is in the story. Not romance. Anyway...  
  
PS: Thank you so much for showing interest in this, I love you all. Sorry if I sounded bitchy in  
the top note.  
  
PPS: Any one know how in the hell to work HTML?? Coz I am clueless. I was doing a bit of  
formatting experimentation.  
  
Whispers  
Part 2: I'm Frightened by What I See...  
----  
  
Will found Elizabeth entertaining a guest in the parlor, when he returned to their home.  
  
No longer living in the Governor's house, but in one that they had built for themselves, Elizabeth  
had insisted on at least one fancy room. It was as if she knew she would miss some aspect of the  
pampered life. The parlor stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the home.  
  
It was decorated in silks and flowers while swords and maps adorned other walls of their  
house.  
  
But Will never minded, he liked at least a farce of the high living.  
  
But he wasn't thinking of silks and parlors when he hurried into their home. "Elizabeth!"  
he shouted, pausing only to throw the bag of smithy tools on a wooden table.  
  
"In here!" her voice rang out from the direction of the parlor. "The Admiral is visiting."  
she announced.  
  
Will bustled into the room, canvas still gripped in one hand, Elizabeth's book in the other.  
He gave Norrington a rushed smile in acknowledgment but turned a pointed look to his wife.  
Norrington saw the look and took the hint. He stood and smiled back, Will was relieved to notice  
the distinct lack of malice in it. After a full year had gone by since he had lost Elizabeth,  
Norrington had achieved many things. A promotion to Admiral, a new wife from London, and  
brand new baby son, it was these things that had taken the contempt and envy off of his face  
every time he looked at Will. Now they were on their way to becoming good friends, much to  
Elizabeth's delight.  
  
But now a frown crossed her brows as she looked back at her husband. "Will! Please do  
not chase away our guest. He had only just arrived." she turned back to Norrington. "Please,  
Admiral, resume your seat, you have yet to tell me of the progress young Jacob has been  
making."  
  
But Norrington was staring at the picture clutched in Will's hand. "Mister Turner, is  
that..." his voice trailed off in recognition.  
  
His unfinished statement drew Elizabeth's gaze to the painting. "The Pearl!" she  
exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Will where did you find that?"  
  
Will closed the space between the other two and himself and laid the painting down on  
the white table. "I was shopping for you, in that new store. The one that just opened near by the  
smithy." he clarified.  
  
Norrington traced a finger over the golden hued waves, pausing at each foam bubble.  
"The detail is remarkable." he commented.  
  
"I met the painter." Will announced. "She told me that this was painted in southern  
Germany. No where near a sea."  
  
"Then how...." Norrington left the question hanging and turned a helpless gaze to Will.  
  
After Jack Sparrow had gone over the wall of the fort, Admiral Norrington was suppose to be on  
the hunt for him. But with the ascent of Sir Robert Walpole, the undeclared Prime Minister  
under King George the First of Hannover, the Royal Navy was being pulled further from the  
colonial Caribbean and up north to the growing unrest in the thirteen colonies of America.  
The title of Commodore was revoked from him, with the sudden lack of a fleet, so a promotion  
was in order. Now instead of chasing after the Black Pearl, the HMS Dauntless remained silent,  
tethered in the calm harbor of Port Royal.  
  
Norrington had spent the first month after Sparrow's flight stewing in barely concealed  
anger. But then a proper marriage was arranged and it drove thoughts of the unruly pirate captain  
from the Admiral's mind. And Port Royal had seen neither hull or sail of the Pearl since.  
  
Will sank down in an unoccupied parlor chair, suddenly exhausted. "I don't know how  
she did it. She told me herself that she had never physically seen the ship before. Just some  
dribble about painting from her mind." he watched the other two continue to stare at the  
painting.   
  
Elizabeth let out a small gasp which turned two heads to her. "Look." she pointed one  
long finger to the bottom edge of the canvas.  
  
"I see nothing but shadows." the Admiral's face was pinched in utter confusion.  
  
Elizabeth waved his comment off impatiently. "Yes, yes, there are shadows, but look at  
what shadows they are."   
  
The three leaned closer over the edge of the painting. Will could see darker shapes  
formed by unseen figures, buildings, in the swirling water. But that was all he could see, he  
didn't understand why Elizabeth was so worked up.  
  
"Elizabeth..." but she cut them off.  
  
"Look, this isn't exactly the sea that this woman painted. It is a harbor. You can see how  
the water is more opaque near the bottom, as if it get shallower. But it is these shadows that  
concern me. There." she pointed to what seemed to be a lopsided cross-like shadow. "That  
building. This is Port Royal's harbor."  
  
Norrington pushed his face closer to the art. "By God. That's our sea-side church. Only  
in our port did our church contractors mess the steeple cross up like that."  
  
Will stared in shock at the telling swab of paint on stretched thread. Their small local  
church was built beautifully except for one mistake. One of the arms of the cross that adorned  
the steeple was noticeably shorter than the other. And now looking down and the row of  
shadows cast out upon a painted sea, he could recognize other Port Royal landmarks.  
  
"But she said that she painted this before she had ever been here." he fumbled, falling  
back into his chair. "She must be..."  
  
"Lying." Norrington finished for him. "There is no other explanation. This woman must  
had come from Tortuga or some other nefarious port town and seen the Black Pearl docked.  
Then when they moved here, she painted this picture. Then realize that the ship affected you  
greatly when you saw it and fed you this fish tale about painting it over in Bavaria." the Admiral  
stood and crossed his arms over his crisp blue overcoat.  
  
Elizabeth remained silent in thought, her mouth pinched in contemplation.  
  
"No, I asked for something involving pirates for Elizabeth, and both her and her partner  
searched for something. She had passed over this one. If she would have seen the Pearl in  
Tortuga, then she would have known that it was a pirate ship."  
  
"It may have not shown its flags for her to recognize it."  
  
"But everyone there on that rock knows of Captain Jack Sparrow and the infamous Black  
Pearl." Will pointed out.  
  
Elizabeth broke in. "Will where is your practical nature? It is almost as if you wish this  
painting to be of supernatural means." she touched the corner of the said painting with a  
fingernail. "That is much more of something that I would have considered were I in your place."  
  
He just shook his head helplessly. "I don't know what to think. If you were to have met this lady  
then you would be confused as I am. Her talk of whispers is just so..." he let the sentence hang.  
  
(mind whispers...)  
  
He rubbed his temples in frustration. "You have to go down to that store and check it out.  
This just seems more than a elaborate sales pitch, I mean she gave this thing to me for free."  
  
Elizabeth suddenly stood and straightened her long skirt. She stood there a moment,  
waiting, and staring at the other two men in front of her. "Well are you coming?"  
  
Norrington just opened his mouth to comment when Elizabeth surged forward and grip  
both his and Will's arms. "We are going to meet this woman!" she demanded and pushed the  
two startled men out the door.  
  
The painting lay silently on the table, the image of the Black Pearl eternally frozen  
sailing into the harbor of Port Royal. 


	3. Some How I Know That There's Much More t...

AN: Thank you for continuing to follow this story. I thought I should clarify that the words in the  
(parenthesis) are quick thoughts. Like the ones that you think quickly that most of the time you  
don't catch. That's why they are stuck in there, it is cleared up more in this part.  
  
Translations: "Wo bist du?" - where are you?  
"Ich bin heir."- I am here.  
  
Whispers  
Part 3: ...Some How I Know That There's Much More to Come  
----  
  
Brown paint was splashed on to the fresh canvas in a fury of brush strokes. A dab of white was  
added to lighten it up to a tan. Stiff bristles were forced to spilt and conform into a softer form as  
the oils were mixed. Now orange was added to give the paint a more sun burnt tone.  
  
The brush was quickly dumped into a small glass of water that turned into a murky senna and a  
new, smaller brush was picked up. This time it was dipped into black.   
  
(kohl...)  
  
Sharp line cut across the expanse of brown. While the brown had been blended to give its  
appearance a more textured look, the black was left in stark clarity to stand out against it. Only  
under the clear line was white added and swirled into a dusky gray. Arched under strokes mixed  
with just the slightest bit of brown were made to add shadows and dept.  
  
(to keep the sun from burning...)  
  
Different, fatter brush picked up in exchange of the smaller one. On the wooden pallet, it was  
thrust into the red. Spread out above the black and muted brown, the red seeped on the canvas  
like a swash of blood. But the startling red was soon brought into perspective with an addition of  
a spot of blue, to mix and darken the red, creating shadowed wrinkles in a painted fabric.  
  
(beads and trinkets to be added later...)  
  
Lene set down the large brush and sighed in exhaustion. Painting always was a physically tiring  
job. But the results were worth it. She fell back onto the tall wooden stool to rest her aching feet.   
  
"Lene?" she heard Amiee's voice calling her from the storefront room. "Lene? Wo bist du?"   
  
Lene had to smile at her friend's use of her native language. "Ich bin heir!" she answered rising  
her back on her sore feet and wiping her hands on the smock that covered her.  
  
She had to push past the long bohemian beads that served as the dividers between the store and  
their apartment. The beads had been a relic that Amiee had found during her travels throughout  
Eastern Europe, in the lands of Bohemia. It always amazed her, when looking at them, how each  
small glass bead was hand crafted and strung, she knew that she could never have the patience to  
do so.  
  
Amiee was standing behind the counter talking to a group of people.  
  
(will turner)  
  
Lene recognized the young man that stood slightly behind a young woman as the man who had  
been in earlier to buy the book and had such a strange reaction to her painting.  
  
"These people wanted to talk to you," a hint of wariness laced Amiee's voice and Lene couldn't  
blame her. It wouldn't be the first time that one of their books or paintings had gotten them in  
trouble.   
  
"Yes?" Lene turned and smiled albeit slightly falsely. Who knew what they wanted, plus it looked  
as if they had brought a naval officer, never a good sign.  
  
(...this promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved... )  
  
The woman took charge, "Hello, I'm Elizabeth-"  
  
"Swann, yes the Governor's daughter." Lene answered without thinking. She leaned her elbows  
on the counter top and smiled again. "How can I be of service."  
  
Elizabeth blinked. "Yes I was Elizabeth Swann, but I am Turner now." she gave Lene a  
thoughtful look before continuing. "We just wanted to ask a couple of questions about this  
painting that you gave my husband."  
  
Lene nodded, knowing all this. Drawing back from the counter and taking a seat on the stool, she  
was aware of Aimee's gaze on her, worrying. But as Lene studying Mrs. Turner, she felt a  
familiarity with the woman. She had a bit of the whisper in her as well. "What would you like to  
know, Mrs. Turner?"  
  
"Where have you seen the Black Pearl before?" the young woman was quick to the point, no  
stalling on the subject.  
  
Thrown slightly, she didn't answer right away. She had never even heard of anything like that  
before. "Black Pearl?" she got out. "What is it?"  
  
The three stared at her, judging her facial reactions, seeing if she was lying. The sincerity must  
have shown through because the man, he must be Mr. Turner, spoke out in frustration.  
  
"See? I told you! She's never met Jack before."  
  
(captain)  
  
Elizabeth gave her husband a withering look before turning back to Lene. "You see, we know the  
ship that you painted. There is no possible way that you could have made it up. You have had to  
see it before."  
  
"Is the Black Pearl the name of the ship?" Aimee asked, drawing their attention back to her.  
  
The three nodded. "The Black Pearl is only the largest pirate threat that the Caribbean has to  
offer." the officer announced. "Port Royal has not seen her dark sails in over a year, yet in the  
painting you have it returning."  
  
Amiee nodded and took it in stride. Pulling her hair back behind her ears she sighed. "Tell me, sir,  
what is your name?"  
  
"Admiral Norrington."  
  
(commodore)  
  
Lene stared at the three, letting the thoughts whisper through her mind. Just disconnected words  
that didn't make much sense. Most of the time the thoughts swept by without bring any attention  
to them. But every once in awhile she picked one up. Like now.  
  
"Were you a commodore last year?" she suddenly burst out.  
  
Norrington turned and gave her a shocked look. Then his eyes narrowed as he considered his  
answer. Lene thought that he probably thought she was mad. But he wouldn't be the first. "Yes,  
about a year ago, I was indeed a commodore."  
  
"Do officers always become commodores before admirals?" Lene pressed.  
  
The man shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back, falling into a military  
unconsciously. "No, men are only promoted to the rank of commodore if there is a need to have a  
fleet in an aggressive area. Or in times of war. Last year the pirate threat had reached its brink and  
we had a fleet to command here in order to eliminate the threat."  
  
Idly noticing that she had gotten paint smeared on the counter top, Lene asked another question.  
"So that threat is over?"  
  
Norrington offered a little shrug that seemed out of place of his character. "So it would seem to  
my superiors. They believe that the unsettlement up north is in need of the fleet more than Port  
Royal and its water ways."  
  
Elizabeth looked as if she was going to burst with questions and as soon as the Admiral had  
stopped talking she jumped in. "How did you know that he was a commodore? How did you  
manage to paint the Black Pearl in Port Royal? Have you ever been here before? How did you  
know my name?"  
  
It was Will's turn to give his wife a withering look. "Elizabeth. Let them answer one question at a  
time." he flash the two shopkeepers a apologetic smile. "I'm terribly sorry, my wife tends to get  
excited easily."  
  
Amiee waved it off. "It's alright. This has happened before. I do not blame her."  
  
That drew everyone's attention. "This has happened before?" Will asked.  
  
Amiee nodded. "Whether it be her paintings or my books, someone had seen or read something  
that is familiar to them but we shouldn't have known. The explanation is a confusion and  
unbelievable one but it is it nonetheless."  
  
"And what is it?" Elizabeth asked, drawing closer to the counter, her interest piqued.  
  
Lene gave each of them a hard look. It was more than just the woman that shared the familiar  
feeling. The other two had it as well. Though the officer did not have it very much at all and  
young Turner's paled in comparison with his wife.   
  
"First off, do you believe in the supernatural?" Amiee asked.  
  
"We've had our brushes with it." Elizabeth answered wryly. "Yes we all do." she answered more  
definitely.  
  
"Good." Amiee smiled a little more relaxed now.  
  
"I paint whenever I get what I call 'mind whispers.' They're feelings or words that rush across my  
mind like the wind or a whisper. Most people don't have these things, and when I find someone  
else that does, I feel like I've known them forever."  
  
"Is that how..." Elizabeth trailed off in full realization of the statement.   
  
Lene nodded. "I think you have a bit of the whispers, Mrs. Turner. Your husband as well, even  
you Admiral. These whispers are hard to catch most of the time, but you can get full images or  
words at times. It is then when I need to paint or Amiee needs to write. We all have our ways of  
getting the whispers out of our heads. Even you must find ways to expel them."   
  
Elizabeth turned and gave Will a pointed look. "Your swords. Remember that one time when you  
were reading in the sitting room and suddenly you jumped up saying something about needing to  
head to the smithy?"  
  
Will nodded stunned.  
  
Lene continued on. "I don't know if these whispers can tell the future or if they just pick up  
whispers from others."  
  
Norrington had been gazing at the bookshelf of Amiee's writings, though still paying attention. At  
the last comment, he turned. "So that means, either you picked up thoughts of the Black  
Pearl......or she's heading for Port Royal?" 


	4. Speaking to the Atmosphere

AN: Sorry about the delay, I got into Pintel and Ragetti. I love those two, so I lost my grasp on  
the Captain for awhile. He's a bit finicky like that. But I coaxed him to returned, we have to finish  
this don't we?   
  
Poem belongs to the wonderful Norah. The only one who I will write for.  
  
Whispers  
Part 4: Speaking to the Atmosphere   
-------------  
  
Amiee laid awake that night staring at the darken ceiling above her. It had been a confusing day.  
Never before had she met so many whisperers in one setting. It thrilled her, yet it caused some  
trepidation to set in.  
  
She knew that Lene was having problems sleeping too, for the sounds of someone moving about  
down in the painting room reached her ears.  
  
She too, was resisting the urge to get out of bed and write down on the nearest bit of parchment.  
But she was trying to exhibit some self-control and not let the whispers take over.  
  
(horizon)  
  
No she would not give in. It was tiring how these thoughts, these feelings sometimes took over  
her mind and her life. It made her grow sick. But she couldn't hide. She couldn't close her eyes  
without these words flowing behind her eyelids.  
  
By her side, her hand twitched unconsciously for the nearest quill. Resolutely she remained in bed,  
staring.  
  
(...the black pearl, mate...)  
  
Flinging an arm over her eyes, she rolled over and tried to force herself into slumber. But to no  
avail. Sighing out loud, she gave in to let the words whisper to her under the cover of darkness.  
  
(...old...)  
  
(...feels old...)  
  
(...smells old...)  
  
What feels, smells old? She wondered to herself. She knew that her whispers were more verbal,  
than Lene's. While Lene received her whispers more often in images, she could hear words,  
thoughts, snippets of conversations that never made sense, or finished.  
  
(it's not like i don't want to help you, love, but we don't have any right...)  
  
(...but there's something there!)  
  
(...someone...)  
  
Amiee twisted and threw the sheets off of her, trying to stop the half heard conversation. Why  
were they coming now? Why was her mind getting this assault?  
  
(freedom)  
  
(beautiful)  
  
It was a losing battle, she realized. So with another heavy sigh she removed herself from the  
twisted white sheets and padded over to the desk and the bottle of ink that she knew waited for  
her. Not bothering to tie back her blond hair, she just resignedly reached for the quill that rested  
next to her thick journal.  
  
Words spilled forth as soon as she touched the sharp, ink coated tip to the blank page.  
  
Someday I'll encounter him, when my apron is dirty and my fingers stained in ink   
My hair an unruly mess; my cheeks daubed with paint   
Yet he'll think I'm beautiful   
  
Someday we'll talk together, and articulary will fail me;  
Tether my fluent tongue inside my mouth   
And still he'll love the words I manage to speak   
  
Someday the speech will dissolve into a sigh; a shiver  
I'll be ashamed to be virginal, white cheeks stained with red trepidation   
He'll abandon the roughness and hold me as breakable porcelain  
  
I'll wait for that day until the earth no longer turns   
Because my world revolves around him   
  
Re-reading what she had written, she tried to make sense what the words from her mind had  
meant. It was a love poem, she knew that much. But what she didn't know was why out of all the  
whispers she could have written, did she write one of love?  
  
Most of the recent whispers had been foreboding and dark. But this one spoke of love and hope.   
  
Understanding.  
  
**~**  
  
Lene threw down her brush in frustration. "Du bist mein Alptraum!" she hissed at the silent  
canvas.   
  
Dark, painted eyes stared back at her.  
  
Collapsing to the floor, she stared back at the man in the picture. "Warum?" she asked. "Warum?  
Was willst du? Wer bist du und was ist dein namen?"  
  
But the picture never answered her.  
  
**~**   
  
Across town, Will Turner laid awake next to his sleeping wife. He was mulling over the events  
that had transpired today. The idea that words that the mind unconsciously thought were  
premonitions seemed silly, too absurd.  
  
But he believed in them.  
  
Could what the Admiral had said be true? Could the Black Pearl and her mad captain be returning  
to Port Royal? Will dared himself to hope, just a little, that it were to be true Had to admit to  
himself that he missed Jack. Elizabeth did too.  
  
And to see him again would be wonderful, another adventure could be had. But something  
seemed off about the whole situation. Something that the two women of the store weren't telling  
them.   
  
(...black pearl holds many secrets....)  
  
Will caught that thought that rushed through his mind. Something about the Black Pearl having  
secrets. But the though died and he struggled to remember the imprint that it left behind.  
  
The whisper seemed not spoken in his own voice like most thoughts in his mind were, but in  
another's.  
  
(...forget, i'm captain jack sparrow, savvy?)  
  
But he was new at this mind game. He couldn't place the voice to a name. Even though it  
sounded so familiar.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked to the silent darkness.  
  
**~**  
  
While Will, Lene, and Amiee were kept in the waking world, Elizabeth was in the world of  
dreams.  
  
(many people died here, many people stay here even after death)  
  
Elizabeth could see disjointed images, in an order that made no sense. In the dreamy aura, she  
tried to grasp each picture and embrace it.  
  
(blood on wood)  
  
(a hand reaching out of a grated hold)  
  
(boots being tied to an iron cannon)  
  
(child with dark eyes cowering in the darkness)  
  
She twisted in her bed, trying to figure out what each of these images meant. The dream held her  
down in away that not even the ropes Barbossa tied her with, did.  
  
The pictures came faster.  
  
(gray matter on a sail)  
  
(lifeless eyes staring up at nothing)  
  
(foamy pink water being scrubbed off a bloodstained deck)  
  
(whispers of a terror unseen)  
  
She woke up screaming.  
  
---------------------------------  
Translations (I hope they are correct, my German is getting rusty)  
  
Du bist mein Alptraum! - You are my nightmare!  
Warum? - Why?  
Was willst du? - What do you want?   
Wer bist du und was ist dein namen? - Who are you and what is your name? 


	5. Immobilized by My Fear

AN: Hey! Sorry about the delay. I've been distracted by school, work, and the wonderfully addictive Matrix fandom. But I haven't  
forgotten my Whispers fic! (I wonder if anyone is still waiting for the next part...-_-') But yeah, there are a few things I need  
to address before we get started.  
  
One: I've been getting alot of "work on your punctuation and captialization" comments. Now I had someone beta my last parts, asking  
where I made all my errors. Except for spelling they found no errors like the ones that I got comments on. So that led me to believe  
that people were talking about the whispers. Yes they are not captialized nor have punctuation. They are suppose to be that way. I  
want them to stand out. Plus people don't think in captials. At least me and my beta don't. So yes, I just felt the need to explain  
that.  
  
Two: Sorry if my German is a bit rusty. I have only three years of German under my belt and only about 5 weeks of being IN Germany.  
So I am definately not fluent in the language. I do have a German partner, and he helps me a bit, and some of the way he speaks was  
different than some of the readers, so I got some very unfriendly comments about my word usage. Now people, why must people be rude  
about things like that? SO I used the wrong tense in Lene's speech. At least I am trying to have something different. I was just  
trying to add depth to a character. Jack, Will, and Elizabeth have a lot of character devoplement. If I was gonna add OCs, then I  
thought it would be proper to add facets to their personalities that made them stand out. Being German in a English colony is   
different. SO yeah. Sorry. Please tell me nicely if I make a mistake. Not rudely.  
  
Three: I've been told by my friend to clarify this. There is no slash between Lene and Amiee. Just a note to make sure people got that,  
happy Nor Nor :P Not that I have a problem with slash. *holds Slash Pride Banner* I write it meself.   
  
Four: Yes, all chapter titles except for the first one are lyrics of the song 'Whisper' by Evanesence. All further chapters will be  
from that song as well. XD Forgot that bit of disclaiming.  
  
Five: From further parts on, this story is becoming a colaboration effort between me and Norah (Black Tangled Heart). She is here   
because of her wonderful ways with the written word. I am completely incapable of writing romance. Dark horror, I can do. Romance?  
No. But it won't become a major thing in the story. It be flavor, that Norah adds. She is wonderful really. Go read her stuff.  
  
Okay enough of my babbling, on with the show, German translation after the story.  
  
Part 5: Immobilized by My Fear  
----------------------  
  
Admiral Norrington walked the ramparts of Fort Cromwell rubbing at his eyes. It had been a long night and he couldn't help   
but yawn every few moments.  
  
Lieutenant Groves walked along side him and gave him a pointed look. "Sir, are you alright?"  
  
Norrington yawned again and waved the question away. "Fine, fine, Lieutenant. Just didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
Groves tilted his head, training a piercing look on his superior. "What is the matter, sir? Nightmare, may I inquire?"  
  
Shrugging his shoulders, Norrington turned to look out over the Jamaican harbor. "You could say that, I assume. Strange   
really."  
  
"How so, sir?"  
  
"It wasn't like a normal dream. It had more of a..." he searched for the right words. "...more of a memory feel. But   
I've never had memories like the ones that I dreamed. Very strange."  
  
The town's church bells rang the hour and Norrington turned back to Groves. "You have command. I must be meeting Mr.   
and Mrs. Turner for noon tea. Take care." he left quickly, yawing as he descended the stone stairs.  
  
Groves turned back to the harbor. He squinted into the horizon, there was a dark spot out there. Recognizing the familiar  
shape he reached and rang the bell shouting "Sail, ho!" to alert the rest of the soldiers of the approaching ship.  
  
**~**  
  
Amiee was organizing her books when the trio walked in. She could tell by looking at them, that they had just as bad a night  
as she had. Elizabeth's normally perfect hair escaped from the bun on top her head so that he fell down in haphazard tendrils   
around her face. Will and Norrington both had dark circles ringing their eyes and were taking turns yawning.  
  
"Hello," she greeted the three as they took seats on the stools around the counter.   
  
They each murmured a greeting back in response. Amiee smiled sardonically at their situation. "So you wanted to meet again with   
us, why now?" she asked, turning back to her books.   
  
"I need to ask you a few things." Elizabeth made a fruitless attempt and fixing her hair. But it was to no avail.  
  
Amiee smiled to herself and moved a book of poetry to another shelf. "About what?"  
  
"Everyone here knows what about." Norrington snapped, temper waning.   
  
"The whispers. Let me guess, you felt them more now that you were aware of them?" She could sense that the three were all   
nodding in ascent. "Well, what did you hear? Or were they still too quiet?"  
  
"I heard that the Black Pearl hold secrets." Will told them. "But the funny thing is that the whispers or whatever, don't seem   
to be in my own voice, like my normal, everyday thoughts are."  
  
"The Black Pearl, eh?" Amiee finally turned around and joined them at the counter. "Everything here seems to be pointing to this  
ship, that I have neither seen nor heard about before."  
  
Elizabeth rubbed at her eyes and stifled a yawn. "The Black Pearl as we told you about before, is a pirate ship captained by the  
infamous Jack Sparrow."  
  
Amiee nodded and sighed. "But why does this ship collect these thoughts?"  
  
"We don't have all the answers." Lene spoke up entering from the back room. "We know about the fact that people had these strange   
thoughts, but we do not know how or why."  
  
Amiee flashed her friend a confused look. Lene's voice had taken on a hard quality and her face was drawn with a faint trace of   
anger. "Lene?"  
  
"Wir wissen nichts, Amiee! Wir können nichts verstehen! Niemand können verstehen!" Lene burst out in her native tongue.  
  
"Why not?" Amiee demanded.  
  
"Ich weiss." Lene glared, daring her friend to argue. But Amiee could only stare.  
  
"Why not?" she repeated, quietly.  
  
Norrington looked between the two women, a look of concern gracing the tired features. "Is there something amiss?" he asked, an   
eyebrow raised.  
  
Amiee turned from Lene to spare the Admiral a look. "It is nothing." she twisted a glare back at her friend who stared petulantly   
at her. "Lene is just a bit stressed."  
  
"I am not stressed!" Lene burst out, back in English. She turned her glare on the other three. "You don't understand anything! You   
think that after one day of even knowing that the whispers exist that you are wise in their ways?"  
  
"We weren't saying anything like..." Elizabeth started but Lene cut her off.  
  
"No one, let me repeat that, no one understands the whispers. They are not your own thoughts, so how can we even try to understand  
them?" she clawed at her paint stained apron.  
  
Will looked at the colors on her dress and smock, the dark red paint stood out like droplets of blood, but it was countered by the   
swirls of grey and tan. Colors that all looked familiar to his eyes.  
  
"What were you painting?" he quietly asked, cutting off the other woman's tirade.  
  
Lene stopped and looked at the blacksmith with a confused look. "Was?"  
  
"What were you painting? Those colors are fresh, what were you painting back there? The whispers were driving you to paint, what is   
it?" Will took a step closer, trying to peer past the Bohemian beads that blocked the door.  
  
Lene said nothing as she disappeared behind the shower of beads. She returned shortly, holding a piece of stretched canvas over a   
wooden frame. Reaching the store's counter, she rotated the painting so that the others could see what was painted on the canvas.  
  
A gasp rose from the three throats of the visitors. Elizabeth clasped a hand to her mouth, Will's eyes widened, and Norrington even  
took a step back, all of them eyeing the painting in shock.  
  
Amiee stared at the picture. It was of a man with dark eyes and dark hair. Beads adorned his ratty dreads and a startling bright red  
bandanna swiped across his forehead, making it the focal point of the painting. Gray and black paint was swashed under the dark eyes  
  
(to block out the sun)  
  
and more black was upon his chin, forming twin braided beards. He was a pirate, this man was. But there was a look in his eyes that  
made Amiee want to rush up to her room and pull out her poetry and search for some written words about this man. For surely she had  
written about the pirate that adorned Lene's canvas.  
  
"Jack!" Will uttered.  
  
Amiee was drawn from the painting back to the young blacksmith. "Jack? Jack Sparrow? Is he the one that sails on this Black Pearl?"  
  
(captain, that's captain jack sparrow)  
  
Lene was staring intently at her own work. "Jack Sparrow. This man is at the center of the whispers." she mumbled. "They collect   
around him. Why? Warum?"  
  
Norrington clenched a fist to his chest and spun around to glare out the window. "I only wish that I was able to do my job and find   
him, Sparrow has to have answers. This puzzle is growing to large, I fear that we can not handle its repercussions."  
  
"James, you make it sound like these whispers are going to kill us." Elizabeth turn to try and catch the Admiral's eyes.   
  
Norrington turned over his shoulder to look down at her. "Can you not feel it? Some shadow is growing. It is almost here. Port Royal  
is going to be overwhelmed." he looked helplessly at the others, "Am I the only one that feels this way?"  
  
Amiee sighed softly. "We all sense the whispers differently." she spared a small look at Lene. "We can not begin to try and understand  
why some of use feel them differently."  
  
"You write, she paints, Will makes swords. What can I do to expell these thoughts?" Norrington turned around and pressed his fist  
tighter to his chest. "I have no such talent besides that of command. I can't very well go up to Cromwell and order men around  
whenever these thoughts invade my mind. I've never been so aware before."  
  
"Some, I've noticed, have quiet whispers, thoughts that just brush across one's mind like the wind. They are never aware of them until  
they are told of them, and then the wind becomes a hurricane." Lene set the painting down and continued to keep her eyes on it, as if  
expecting it to come alive.  
  
"I sense the vague feeling that James speaks of." Elizabeth whispered. All eyes turned to her. She blinked at the sudden attention, and  
tried once more to push her hair back into place. "I had dreams. Dreams of blood. It covered the deck." her eyes grew distant at the  
memory,  
  
"The deck?" Will asked.  
  
"On the Pearl perhaps?" Norrington questioned.  
  
Elizabeth nodded. "I believe so. Yes..."  
  
(red on wood)  
  
A sudden blur of passing red shocked the five of them. Norrington turned and stared in surprise. "What are those men doing?" he   
wondered out loud.  
  
Pushing past Will and Elizabeth, he stepped outside the store and caught the attention of the passing Gillette. The newly promoted   
captain started at the sight of his supieror.  
  
"Admiral Norrington!"  
  
"Gillete, what is amiss?" Norrington demanded, as more redcoats passed the two by. Will, Elizabeth, Amiee, and Lene now crowded behind  
the Admiral, listening in curiousity.  
  
"Sir, haven't you heard?"  
  
Norrington sighed in frustration. "No, Captain, I've been on break. I repeat, what is amiss? Why are those men heading to the harbor?"  
  
Gillette, looking frazzeled answered his Admiral. "Sir, the Black Pearl has returned."  
  
**~**  
German Translations: (read note number 2 first)  
  
"Wir wissen nichts, Amiee! Wir können nichts verstehen! Niemand können verstehen!"  
"We don't know, Amiee! We can't understand! No one can understand!"  
  
"Ich weiss"  
"I know"  
  
"Was?"  
"What?"  
  
"Warum?"  
"Why?" 


	6. Catch Me as I Fall

AN: Okay this part is much longer than my usual. Norrington is just too much fun to write and I  
knew that I had to get to Jack. So it was much more than I expected. We are starting to see  
diversions in the ways of the whispers. And just to point out, Norrington is the weakest of the  
whispers, so his are just emotions, if you notice he doesn't even pick up on the words. Will's are  
growing stronger....okay I am giving too much away here. So I will shut up now.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own Disney, nor Evanescence, or the quote from Stephen King. If you can  
guess which book and which quote it is from, you get a cookie ~_~  
  
Part 6: Catch Me as I Fall  
  
Norrington broke into a run after his captain, racing down to the harbor. The news couldn't be  
true. It was too surreal, to have the Pearl return as they talk about it. Why of all times would that  
incorrigible pirate captain sail straight into hostile waters? Surely he must be mad.  
  
He was vaguely aware that Will and Elizabeth followed him, the two shopkeepers may be behind  
him, but he wasn't paying attention to that. He just knew that he had to reach the stones of Fort  
Cromwell before any orders went out to fire on that ship.  
  
(destroy it! you must destroy it!)  
  
The cobble stones of Port Royal flashed under his feet as he ran faster than he could ever recall.  
There was a heaviness in his chest that cause his breaths that he took to become painful, burning  
in their intensity; he knew it had nothing to do with being out of shape. He had felt it growing  
throughout the sleepless night and the day. The whispers were a vice that seemed intent on  
crushing him.  
  
(...commodore...)  
  
(...james...)  
  
(...fire...)  
  
(...commodore fire at will...)  
  
He rounded up the steep stone stairs in time to see Gillette taking command and having men load  
the cannons that adorned the parapets of the fort. In his haste, he missed a step and brought his  
full weight down upon a twisted ankle.  
  
Norrington's momentum kept him going upwards, but the jolt of thrusting his body down on his  
ankle cause him to use the momentum and stumble forward. Luckily, Will, whose breeches clad  
legs allowed for quicker movement the full length hoop skirt of his lady-wife, saw the misstep and  
shot a hand out to catch him before he fell.  
  
The commotion in the stairwell cause Gillette to turn and observed what appeared to be his  
commanding officer in the arms of a blacksmith. The look a cool surprise on the captain's face  
would have brought a smile to the Admiral's face if not for the tightening of the vice around his  
chest and the shooting pain in his ankle.  
  
"Gillette! Belay that order!" the men froze in their process of preparing to fire. "Belay that order!  
No firing on that ship!" Norrington, with the aide of Will's arms and shoulder, limped the rest of  
the way up the stairs.  
  
Gillette snapped to attention and repeated the order of his commander, even though the look of  
surprise never left his face. "Cease fire men, cease fire." he peered closely at the Admiral as the  
other two men, now joined by the trailing three women, stood and stared down at the harbor.  
"Sir?" he questioned.  
  
Norrington winced as he tested his weight on his injured ankle. "I need that ship to safely dock in  
our harbor." his face resumed its cool detatchment.  
  
Will, still supporting the Admiral, looked down at the familiar grey sails. But now the Black Pearl  
seemed more sinister in light of what was slowly being revealed about it.   
  
(not a lot is known about jack sparrow.....back when he was the captain of the black pearl...)  
  
Elizabeth joined her husband's side and looked down on the ship that once held her body captive;  
it now held her mind.  
  
(welcome to the black pearl, miss turner)  
  
Amiee strained her eyes to search for the figure that commanded the vessel below, a ship that she  
had never seen, but seem to know so much about.  
  
(the black pearl is a pirate ship, captained by the infamous jack sparrow)  
  
Lene crossed her arms and glared down at the top sails and rigging that aided the ship's  
movement. She couldn't help but feel that she would feel safer if that ship was sailing out of the  
harbor instead in.  
  
(...this inhuman place makes human monsters...)  
  
Pain seared in his ankle, but Norrington ignored that feeling. Dark thoughts descended on his  
mind, and he felt that he had no escape. Irrationally, he felt the sudden urge to throw himself off  
the side of the parapet, much like Elizabeth and Jack had done in the past. But now, he wasn't  
sure he wanted to miss the rocks below.  
  
(...sir the rocks! it is a miracle she missed them!)  
  
Gillette looked at the stony faces of the ones around him. Timidly he asked, "Sir? What is our  
course of action with the Pearl?"  
  
Norrington was quiet as he surveyed the harbor. "Allow them to dock, I will grant them safety for  
this stay in Port Royal. For now we are a peace with the pirates."  
  
**~**  
  
Will stood now on the wooden planks of the Port Royal docks. The Black Pearl was moored  
majestically where the Interceptor once was. It was an eerie reminder of what they had lost in that  
last adventure.   
  
He was waiting. Waiting for Jack to step off that boat. He didn't know what was happening for  
sure, why Jack had even come back, but knew that he need answers.   
  
(...secrets...)  
  
Will stiffened as he felt the thought brush through his mind. More and more he felt the words that  
whispers brought. He couldn't recognize the voice, but the familiarity of it was staggering.  
  
(...avoid familiarity with pirates...)  
  
Beside him, Elizabeth waited as well. She has her hand resting in the crook of his elbow, it would  
have seemed like a normal gesture for their relationship if it weren't for her white knuckles and  
the nails that were digging into his skin.  
  
Two of Jack's men threw down the gangplank with a sharp thud. The group of them, Norrington,  
Lene, and Amiee included, jumped at the sudden noise. Will couldn't blame them, their state of  
nerves were very frazzled at the moment.   
  
And then there he was.  
  
(captain)  
  
Jack Sparrow stood at the railing of the Pearl, smiling his insufferable smile. Just for a moment  
Will felt a silence descend over his mind and the whispers faded to black, and there was his old  
friend and his ship. Nothing frightening whatsoever.  
  
(...take the sword...)  
  
Will jerked.  
  
(...take the sword and take what was mine...)  
  
His eyes glazed as the words were back. They were speaking in a thousand voices in his one  
mind. Demanding. He fought the urge to claw at his head, and try to physically rid his mind of the  
words.  
  
"What does this all mean?" he whispered in a tortured voice.  
  
Elizabeth turned and fixed a concern gaze on him. "Will?"  
  
Before he could explain, Jack had joined them. "Commodore! So nice of you to let us weigh  
anchor here. But I am a mite confused on what brought on this spell of good humor." he fixed  
Norrington with a slight leer.  
  
Will, still feeling addled, waited for Norrington's reply.  
  
"We have a few questions, Sparrow." was the terse answer.  
  
Jack merely grinned, flashing gold and silver. "Ah but Commodore, you must first answer me this,  
are you limping?"  
  
The familiar frustrated look graced Norrington's features again. "I sustained an injuring before  
your unannounced arrival."  
  
Nodding was all Jack gave in turn. It was Will that Jack focused his attentions to. "Will, it's been  
awhile." he stated softly.  
  
(...take the sword and take what was mine...)  
  
(...secrets in wood frames, answers in dark places...)  
  
Will recoiled from Jack with such intensity that Elizabeth's arm was jarred from its place. "Why  
are you here?" Will strangled out.  
  
Jack's kohl lined eyes darkened at Will startling reaction. "I came..." his voice trailed off, "I came  
to see you and yer lovely wife, mate. "  
  
Will wasn't stupid, he caught that hesitation. Was Jack here for some mission? Some secret raid?  
There was that word again. Secret. Why was all of his whispered thoughts returning to that idea?   
  
(...secrets in wood frames, answers in dark places...)  
  
**~**  
  
Lene stared that living version of the painting that she had been working one. The man whose  
paint colors still stained her apron. All this suspense leading up to his arrival and then...nothing.  
She could tell if others had whispers, like she did with Elizabeth. There was a feeling of  
comradery; a feeling of sharing a secret that only they knew.  
  
But this Jack Sparrow was blank; he had no whispers in his mind.  
  
But the black wood of the gangplank, of the starboard hull of the ship, it was there that she felt a  
burning surge of thoughts; whispers.   
  
The ship, itself had whispers.  
  
The implications of that statement were too much for her to take. An inanimate object cannot  
think, therefore it cannot have whispers. Yet this ship, this Black Pearl, had them.  
  
They were in the soft breezes that she and the other felt either, they were in gale force winds. The  
collected themselves in the hull like some sort of parasite. Yet she could only get certain images  
from them.  
  
(skull)  
  
(gray matter on soggy sails)  
  
(blood spattered in butterfly images)  
  
(rotten flesh hanging in strips off of a dead captain)  
  
(worn leather of a ragged pair of boots whose straps had been broken)  
  
Feeling like none other flooded her veins. She hated this Jack Sparrow. With every fiber of her  
being, she hated him. He, who could not hear the screams of the wood around him, or see the  
death that was everywhere.  
  
It wasn't that captain that was collecting their whispers. It was this ship. This ship of the dead.   
  
She shot a look over at her friend, but Amiee's eyes were focused on the pirate, her lips silently  
reciting words that she had written. She couldn't see how her friend didn't feel the evil that was  
wafting off of the ship, the dark waves that it was creating.  
  
(...this inhuman place makes human monsters...)  
  
(...this inhuman place makes human monsters...)  
  
(...this inhuman place makes human monsters...) 


	7. Don't Close Your Eyes

AN: Okay here is the next part. It gets darker as the work becomes both mine and Norah's, hopefully we did a good job melding our writing styles. This part is longer than my last! And here tries me and HTML. Hopefully it works. German translations at the bottom.

  


_Replies to Reviews:_

Banshee: Thank you for your review earlier where you pointed out my German mistake, you were very nice and I appreciated it! You'll prolly get more in this part. And YES! You get the cookie, it was from the Shining.

  


Indigo Ziona: All of your reviews make me happy! I'm glad that you are liking it!

  


Softbrush: The emotions are what I am playing for. I'm am happy that you like it so far, Norrington is hard to write for emotions, I only hope I do him justice.

  


Kelsey: Jack saw them approach on the dock when they were mooring. It was kinda confusing so sorry about that! But yeah the whispers aren't a fun thing to have, I know I wouldn't want them.

  


BM: YAY! I am glad that you think I am doing this right! I was so worried about my Ocs and you think that they are working, thank you! Thanks for saying all those nice things too about the story, I am a puddle in happiness.

  


Bethe: I hardly ever read POTC fics here, but I feel honored that you read mine and think that it has quality. I used you advice on HTML and hopefully it works. And Bootstrap Bill will come into play, but I can't reveal more than that. :P But like BM's review, yours reduced me to puddle of joy.

  


Shimmergloom: That would be Merry Christmas for me. Hehe. Thank you, and I hope this chapter keeps the haunting feeling going.

  


Part 7: _Don't Close Your Eyes_

-----------------------

  


Vices upon vices; tightening of the chest that almost cut off his breaths. Standing there on that dock, in the presence of a pirate, Norrington suddenly felt as if he was underwater. Every move he made was slow and sludgy, the vices around his chest were pressing down on him like tons of water weighing down on a drowning man. 

  


Jack Sparrow was right in front of him.

  


Here was the answers to all of their questions, the cause of all their pain, the bane of his very existence; he was standing right in front of him.

  


And he was _smiling_. 

  


Colors swam in front of his eyes as he tried to make sense of everything, but it was as if he really were drowning. Breaths began to come in hitches and he felt the irrational need to try to find the surface, which was absurd because he wasn't in the water.

  


"James?" came the alarmed cry of Elizabeth. "What's a matter?"

  


But couldn't formulate an answer. Something was blocking him. He began to panic, air wasn't reaching his lungs. He twisted on his feet in an attempt to flee, but the jarring of his twisted ankle caused him to pitch forward.

  


Everyone seem to move faster than Norrington could imagine, but it was Sparrow himself, who caught him as he fell. 

  


"What is wrong with ya, mate?" Sparrow asked in a surprised voice. "Is that why you be letting me dock? Are you bloody ill?"

  


Norrington's fingers clawed at the dirtied blue overcoat, trying to tell the daft pirate that he couldn't draw any breaths, that he was drowning.

  


(_oh come now commodore have you forgotten your oath?)_

  


Jack actually looked worried as Norrington leaned into the pirate's chest, shoulders heaving in the attempt to draw air into his lungs. 

  


(_drowning)_

  


_(drowning in the blood of others)_

  


_(can you not see us, great commodore?)_

  


The whispers, he could hear them, they were mocking him. Mocking him, or was it Sparrow? Was that pirate saying those hateful words in his ear? Of course, it was Sparrow.

  


With sudden determination, Norrington pulled back out of Jack's arms. But Will and Elizabeth seemed to be expecting that move and were there behind him when his ankle gave way beneath him.

  


Amiee saw the hurt in James' eyes, as though every fear he had long buried was surfacing. It was undeniable that his very soul shook; his body was not the only thing affected. What spurred this convulsion of anxiety, she wasn't sure. She was certain of one thing: she was no stranger to such a feeling. 

Though it would pass, its effects were terrifying, like an explosion inside the skull that shattered all reason. When it was pieced together, nothing made sense. One was always relieved when things fit as they were before, even if it wasn't completely perfect. The devastation of panic was too much to bear; storms that disrupted calm. 

"Lets get him somewhere, where he can lay down." Will urged, looking around. But Fort Cromwell was up several steep sets of stairs, the smithy and Amiee and Lene's shop were both too far away.

But Jack answered that, "Let's get the good Commodore up on the Pearl, he can lay in me quarters."

"NEIN!" 

All heads were turned towards Lene. The woman looked livid as she stared past the group to the ship behind them. "Nein," she spoke more quietly. "Er kann nicht gehen!"

Amiee looked at her friend hard, "Warum?" she asked in Lene's language.

"Das Schiff ist...Übel!"

Jack looked confused, as if first seeing the two newcomers. "What in the bloody hell is she saying?" he demanded, looking worriedly and the gasping Admiral in Will and Elizabeth's arms.

"She says that he can't go on that ship." Amiee began.

"_She_ can speak for herself! You let the Admiral go on that ship and he will die." Lene declared, pointing a finger at the Pearl's hull.

Jack looked affronted. "Why the hell not? He looks as if Death is gonna take him right now, if we don't do anything about it."

"Because," Lene sneered, "that _ship_ is evil."

Elizabeth tightened her grip on Norrington and looked over at Lene. "I feel it too." she turned to Will. "Get him away from here, take him to our house, it is the shortest distance from here. Lene? Amiee? Will you accompany him? I have to talk to Jack some more."

Will nodded once before accepting Norrington's full weight and shouldering him quickly off to their home. Lene moved quickly to take some of Will's burden as they made their way off. Amiee paused a moment and threw Jack an undefinable look before trailing her friend. When they were some distance away, Elizabeth turned on Jack.

"Why are you here?" she asked, repeating Will's earlier inquiry.

"I told ya, love, I wanted to come and see what life as given you two in married bliss." Jack crossed his arms and raised a dark eyebrow. "And all I get is for me kindness is demands and the Commodore plunging headfirst into me arms. Now if I knew he felt that way about me earlier, I would have taken him over the wall with me." that last part was said with a leer on his expression.

"Admiral." Elizabeth muttered.

"What?"

"James is an Admiral now, no longer a Commodore." Elizabeth corrected. "And we don't mean to sound so rude and impolite," she looked up shyly at him, "I _did_ miss you Jack. But you came at a stressful time."

Jack nodded, "Admiral eh? Good for him, guess with that trouble up North with them French, no more pirate hunting for awhile, eh? But what can you mean by stressful times? What be up with Port Royal?"

Elizabeth shook her head and felt some of her curls fall down from their restraint. "No, not with Port Royal. We learned of something new, from newcomers to the town."

Jack gestured to the retreating forms of Lene and Amiee. "Them ladies?"

She nodded and turn her gaze to the Pearl once more. She did feel the dark whispers from the ship, even darker than when she spent those days captive on it with a crew of the un-dead. 

(_the moonlight shows us for what we really are...)_

"Have you ever heard of mind whispers, Jack?" she asked earnestly.

"What?"

"Mind whispers. They are thoughts or feelings that aren't truly your own, they tend to brush across your mind without you even hearing them. But some people can pick up on them, it is like hearing snatches of conversations that you are not meant to be a part of." She peered up into his hooded eyes, "Have you heard of them?"

Jack's eyes seemed to darken even more so than thought possible. "No, Miss Tuner. I have never heard of such a thing in all of my years."

(_lies)_

**~**

It had been a week. And Lene was growing increasingly frustrated. Will and Elizabeth had been in the shop everyday, telling pieces of whispered conversations that they had caught, Norrington had been in just as frequent. He had recovered from his spell down at the docks. He still had moments where he was uncertain if he could draw his next breath but there were no reoccurrences of that day. But they had seen nothing of the one Jack Sparrow.

Well, just herself and Amiee, that is. Jack had taken to visiting the Turners every night before heading off to then nearest tavern to drink himself into oblivion. He had yet to set foot into their shop.

Well that was a small relief, the few minutes that she had shared with his person on the docks after his initial arrival caused her blood to boil. Just the fact that the man held no capacity for the whispers made her angrier than she had ever been. 

Why was he allowed to be separate from the whispering ones?

Why? When his ship thrived on them? Why must his head be silent?

(_don't close your eyes)_

_(red and black)_

_(black and red all in your head)_

Lene violently reached for her paint brush and stabbed it into the gob of red oil paint. As soon as the red coated the brush, she swiped it on to waiting canvas. She let her mind fade to black as she made the brush sway back and forth, creating depth where the paint lightened and darkened. 

After a while she switched to black and viciously pounded two black orbs into the red haze. Not entirely satisfied, she reached over and squeezed out some white and mixed it with the black to make some grey. It was added around the red to make a misty background. 

She stopped paying attention to what she painted and she let the whispers flow through her and onto the canvas, maybe expelling some would let the anger at a man she hardly knew, fade.

(_children)_

_(child)_

_(child in the dark)_

_(the dark is closing in)_

_(death before my eyes...)_

_(....james norrington, admiral...)_

_(...a wife and child...)_

_(death before my eyes...)_

Lene opened her eyes with a startled gasp. She hadn't even realized that she had shut them. The paint brush dropped to her side and slipped from her fingers to clatter on to the floor.

On the canvas, a fire raged and in the middle of the scene were two figures twisted in a dance of pain. The larger looked as if she was trying to protect the smaller, much smaller one.

It was a mother and a child.

No, it was more of a baby than a child.

James Norrington's brand new wife and baby were dying on her canvas, in a wreath of fire. They were dying right in front of her.

Her mouth was open in a silent scream, as her skin peeled away in the flames. Her arms were bent over the baby, shielding it from the heat, but oh what would happen when the fire ate through the bone? Would some save the child?

Nausea swam through her stomach as she stared at her gruesome creation. She wanted to destroy it, she needed to, couldn't let anyone see it. The whispers were cruel in their images.

Quickly she stood and ripped the still drying piece of artwork from the easel and made her way over to where she kept the extra paintings that still hadn't made it to the front of the store yet. As she stood over the pile, calmness descended on her.

Why should she destroy the painting?

It was art after all. She stole a glance over her shoulder to see if Amiee could see her. But the other woman was busy dusting, her sneezing could be heard in the back. There were many extra paintings back here, maybe if she moved some out to the front, she could frame this one and store it away. No one but herself would know it would exist. So why not?

(_don't close your eyes)_

**~**

Amiee tended to bookshelves that needed dusting, sneezing as she did so. Grey clouds rose up from between the spines of her collections. She wiped a dirty hand across her face, and sneezed again. "Mein Gott!" she cursed angrily. She'd heard Lene use the German expression in times of utter frustration, so it seemed fitting. Even if German was not her native language. She grabbed the newest of books and tossed it onto the counter, without noticing that it flipped open. She wiped down the space where the book had been, and promptly sneezed.   
  
She hadn't bothered to tie back her unruly hair, so it became streaked with dirt as she worked. Her plain taupe dress was tarnished as well. She was glad for once that the shop was empty, save her friend and herself. She wouldn't want any customer seeing her. Her hands were red and chapped from scrubbing the hardwood floors with hot water. The tips of her fingers were black with ink the way a cigar smoker's fingers colour from tar. If she were to see herself in a mirror at that moment, she would have spent the rest of the hot afternoon curled up at the back of the store, crying the dirt off her cheeks.   
  
"Amiee!" Lene called from the back of the store. "Come get this painting and put it out with the others!" Glad to be free of her aggravating task, Amiee darted behind the curtain of beads and took a small oval-framed painting of a full moon from Lene's hands. The bell above the shop's door jangled. Someone had stepped in. Lene rose from her chair, but Amiee stopped her.   
  
"I'll go. I'm on my way there, anyhow."   
  
"You should get cleaned up, Am—" Lene called. The younger woman glanced back at her friend. With the awkwardness of the movement, she tripped and lost her footing, crashing ungracefully to the floor. The glass frame smashed, filling her skin with tiny shards. Tears welled in her eyes. The painting was not ruined, but she turned herself away, to keep from marring it with blood. Lene was by her side in a flash, and wrapped her in a gentle hug before retrieving a battered broom to sweep up the mess.   
  
"What has gotten into you, Amiee?"   
  
She shakily got to her feet, afraid of toppling over again, like a porcelain doll. She was a frightful sight, with a dirty face and lacerated skin. She shook her head. "I don't know." Inhaling as deeply as she could manage, she made her way to the front of the store.   
  
What she saw made her want to fall once more, if only to hide.   
  
The person who had just entered the shop had found her open poetry book. Black dreadlocked hair fell around a wind-burnt face.   
  
(_someday I'll encounter him_)   
  
His onyx eyes were narrowed in concentration as he leafed through the pages. Amiee cleared her throat, and felt her heart jump up like a fish out of water when those eyes rested on her grimy countenance.   
  
(_tether my fluent tongue inside my mouth_)   
  
"You look in a bad way there, lass," he affirmed. She tried to speak, but no sound came out of her mouth. Her cuts stung. "Cat gotcher tongue?" He stabbed a finger at the open book. "Did you write that?" She nodded mutely. "That's me, innit?"   
  
Trembling from head to foot, she leaned toward him and read the words on the page.   
  
'You resound like music in my head   
You, with branded flesh and a prideful heart   
You are the light at the end of a treacherous path   
You are my way home – dark-eyed   
You are my sleepless night   
You are my missing half   
Come to me   
Be my melody; my star'   
  
She lifted a hand to tear the page from the book. He caught her slender, milk-white wrist between his rough palms. "You're hurt." She flinched, but allowed him to turn her hands over and pluck the glass out. It loosed itself from her skin with a sick sound, and more blood pooled in the wounds. This was the man she'd been waiting for, though she could barely look at him. Her face burned.   
  
"Thank you."   
  
"So yeh can speak!"   
  
There was a rustling sound from the back as the bead curtain swayed to the side. Lene emerged, with her lunar depiction in a new frame. Her eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. 

"What are you doing here?" she demanded letting the painting drop on to the counter.

Jack smiled a rueful grin, displaying a mouth full of gold and silver. "I heard about this place from out mutual friends Will and 'Lizabeth. Thought I'd come and take a look." his smile turned predatory, "Seeing as how you paint a damn good Pearl and this lass here, seems to know me more than I do."

Lene shook in anger as Amiee stiffened in Jack's grasp. "Gehen Sie aus!" Lene screamed.

Jack dropped Amiee's hand and held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. "A'right, I get yeh. I'll leave, at least that's what I think you be meanin'."

As he left, Amiee spun on Lene, her eyes haunted at the thought of losing him. 

Lene stared straight back, eyes equally haunted.

**~**

German:

Nein: No

Er kann nicht gehen: He cannot go.

Das Schiff ist...Übel: The ship is...evil.

Mein Gott: My God.

Gehen Sie aus: Get out.

  
  



End file.
